I get this one a lot too.  “How are you okay?” or  “How are you even standing?”.  The problem is that we have this idea in our heads of what this should look like.  And I think for some, I just don’t fit that pre-conceived picture of how this particular walk should appear from the outside.  I may even be on the receiving end of some judgement.

It’s not that I’m “okay”.  I’m not, actually.  But let’s look at this from two perspectives, and maybe we can make our way to the best answer I have.

The Spectrum of Dispositions

In the grand scheme of personalities, there is a spectrum of dispositions.  And, in commonly known personality terms, the spectrum spans from Eeyore to Dory.  Eeyore is one extreme of dispositions.  Incessantly sad, clinically depressed to people who like to over-analyze and ruin cartoons, Eeyore embodies a “pit of despair” disposition.  There is never a time when Eeyore is happy, and there’s nothing you can do to change his gloomy, negative attitude towards the world.  “Woe is me” is his forever mantra.  At the opposite end of the spectrum, you have Dory.  With absolutely no long-term memory, Dory can’t remember anything long enough to hold a grudge, never mind be sad about it.  Every moment is a happy adventure, and she has never met a stranger or enemy.  She is upbeat, bubbly, and excessively optimistic.  Her mantra, in contrast, is “Just keep swimming”.

Depending on where you are on this spectrum can sometimes determine your full range of emotions.  Those that are more towards the Eeyore end tend to face every obstacle, no matter the size, with the same sad, defeated attitude.  Good news for them only means their attitude is less likely to get worse, but doesn’t necessarily guarantee it.  Their span of emotions ranges from “not as sad, but still down” to “crawl in a hole and die, but complain because no one visits them in the hole”.  Jaded, they are.  Those that lean more towards the Dory end, however, face everything with a rosier perspective.  There is no danger, there is no obstacle that cannot be overcome, there are no enemies.  To them, they will always come out of it on the other side.  In comparison, their range might span from “it’s going to be a great day” to “Oh, wow, I’ve never seen a charging buffalo this close.  How exciting!”

I would put myself somewhere near the Dory end.  My disposition is typically upbeat, with a generous dose of realism mixed in.  In general, every day is a new opportunity, every experience provides a lesson I wouldn’t have otherwise, and if someone has beef with me, well then, I’ll just facilitate my way through it until they at least tolerate me again.

This is reason #1 I appear to be “doing okay”.  In my range of emotions, I am not “doing okay”.  I have felt more sadness in the past month than I have my entire life.  There are moments I feel painfully alone.  It simply looks different to the world, because my disposition still seems reasonably… okay.  I still greet people with a smile and I still make jokes at my own expense.  In my disposition range, I’m still pretty low.  But in the grand scheme of dispositions, I appear to be somewhere between “okay” and “Dory”.  Sorry?

Fight or Flight

My dad once explained the “fight or flight” theory to me as a kid.  For some reason, maybe because I was a teenager, I associated the “fight” with actual fisticuffs.  And knowing that I was petrified by even the thought of being in a fight, I decided I must be a “flight” person instead.

Over the years, I’ve learned that there may actually be other, less literal definitions of “fight”.  For example, one may be willing to stand up for their own opinion when, say, they’re talking to their boss.  In fact, this may have happened with 83% of one’s bosses.  Multiple times.  Or maybe, when faced with a problem, one works diligently to solve it, rather than give up and no longer pursue that particular path.  Or maybe when faced with a very large task, one faces it with a to do list, breaking it into smaller chunks, rather than decide it’s too hard and ask someone else to tackle it for them.

And after 33 years, some of those as a legitimate adult, I have concluded that I am, in fact, a fighter.  Faced with the darkest walk of my life, I began by creating multiple to do lists.  I decided what pieces I could handle, and what pieces I could hand off.  And I delegated, quickly and without regret.  In fact, on Day 2, we actually ordered a guide to being a widow from Amazon.  Because I wanted to progress through this, so that I could eventually get to the other side.  I started a list of short term goals, a list of long term goals, a list of things people could do if they dropped by, etc.  And I still am working from those lists.  Some grow, while others get shorter.  But it is my momentum.

I think my pastor picked up on this when we met.  I shared with him the support I had, what was next on my to do list, and where I thought I was in the grief process.  Seeing that I grieve by “doing”, he shared his prediction that things were eventually going to get “very, very tough”.  Unsatisfied with the lack of specifics, I asked for clarification.

“How tough are we talking?  Give me a measurement.”

He explained that I would see them coming:  birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, etc.  And advised I make a game plan for them.  Fantastic!  A game plan!  Yes, this is my language!  I walked out, satisfied with some insight, and him maybe scratching his head at my “grieving”.

Strange things to think a few weeks after, I realize.  But this is me.  I move forward.  I may get knocked down, like we all do sometimes.  But I stand up, look at my path, look for obstacles, make goals for myself, and move forward.  I may even ask others to help me check my blind spots, to ensure I can continue the momentum forward.

And frankly, it helps that I know exactly where Chris is.  And that he planned ahead for the unexpected.

So, yes, it may appear that “I’m doing okay”.  And maybe, in the grand scheme, I am.  But that is a perspective.  From my perspective, I’m just barely surviving.  I’m laughing, but less than normal.  I’m greeting others with a smile, but not necessarily asking how they are.  I’m making plans with friends, but to ensure I don’t get stuck in lonely-ville too long.

I’m surviving this the only way I know how.  Dory-style.  “Just keep swimming…”  But in a slower, more subdued tone.  Maybe with Waylon Jennings singing instead.